Fordsburg Fighter

Amin Cajee

Description

When Amin Cajee left South Africa to join the liberation struggle he believed he had volunteered to serve �a democratic movement dedicated to bringing down an oppressive and racist regime�. Instead, he writes, in this powerful and courageous memoir, �I found myself serving a movement that was relentless in exercising power and riddled with corruption�. Fordsburg Fighter traces an extraordinary physical journey � from home in South Africa, to training in Czechoslovakia and the ANC�s Kongwa camp in Tanzania to England. The book makes a significant contribution to the hidden history of exile, and documents Cajee�s emotional odyssey from idealism to disillusionment.

Sujets

• History

Informations

• Publié par: Cover2Cover Books
• Date de parution: 24 juin 2016
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781928346241
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 7 Mo

Extrait

Contents
Dedication
Foreword
Preface
chapter 1 Sentenced to death
chapter 2 Reflections on an early life
chapter 3 Pamphlets, slogans and Nelson Mandela
chapter 4 Opening blasts of a liberation war
chapter 5 And so to Mombasa
chapter 6 Journey to the UK
chapter 7 Tourists in London
chapter 8 Czechoslovakia
chapter 9 Getting down to training
chapter 10 Cover blown … and back to Prague
chapter 11 At last, Kongwa transit camp
chapter 12 Kongwa and the ‘people’s court’
chapter 13 The Czech contingent arrives
chapter 14 Swelling biscuits and World War II
chapter 15 ‘In the name of the people’ – a death sentence
chapter 16 A deadly experiment
chapter 17 More corruption … and worrying news
chapter 18 Waiting, planning and getting out
chapter 19 Surprise arrivals on the road to Nairobi
chapter 20 Name changes and refugee status
chapter 21 Zimbabwe, Wankie and looking to Europe
chapter 22 A roundabout route to Europe
chapter 23 Coming to terms with exile
Afterword
MK deaths in Zimbabwe incursions 1967/68
Major figures in a seven-year odyssey
Acknowledgements
Notes
Dedication
So many people provided help, hope, companionship and encouragement to me over the years. I thank them all and it is to them that this book is dedicated.
Foreword
I have known Amin Cajee since 1960. He and his older brother Joe lived just four blocks away from me in Avenue Road, Fordsburg. They showed an interest in the Transvaal Indian Youth Congress’s (TIYC) activities, which had a strong following in Fordsburg at the time. Many youth attended TIYC gatherings and demonstrations and gained their political knowledge through these activities.
In 1957 the One Day Strike was held in Johannesburg, the Treason Trial began and the TIYC organised a torch-lit march on Red Square, which was attended by many learners and students. Baton-wielding police officers, accompanied by dogs, attacked demonstrators at this march. In retaliation, participants challenged the police, knocking some of them to the ground. One police officer was so shocked at the response that he was unable to pull out his gun. The talk at the police station the next day was that ‘... last night the coolies were very cross’. Amin vividly recalls this episode, among many others, in his book.
Amin and his close friends Omar Bhamjee and Magan Narsi became active members of the TIYC, attending demonstrations and helping to print, store and distribute leaflets, put up posters calling for strike action and paint slogans. They were asked to be on the executive committee of the organisation and attended meetings locally and in Johannesburg. Amin and his brother Joe also hosted meetings in their bedroom of the house on Avenue Road. Nelson Mandela attended one such meeting to address a group of activists and Amin’s mother and sisters fondly remember his politeness in thanking them for their hospitality. On Mandela’s arrest, Amin’s mother volunteered to help arrange his meals at the Old Fort.
When Umkhonto we Sizwe (‘Spear of the Nation’) (MK) was launched in 1961, there was a drive to recruit young people. We had to be selective about who we recruited. At just 19 years old, Amin, along with Omar and Magan, was recruited into an MK cell led by me. We carried out various undercover activities. In 1962 the organisation’s regional command asked volunteers to go abroad for specialised training. As head of the cell, I asked Amin and Omar, who readily agreed to become MK soldiers. They left for East Africa on 22 October 1962, travelling by train and boat. They were the first Indian recruits to leave South Africa to join MK in exile. Once they left South Africa, it was no longer our function to keep track of their progress or whereabouts. They became the responsibility of the external African National Congress (ANC )mission abroad. After Amin and Omar left, and unknown to them, I recruited Amin’s brother Joe, who joined Magan in my cell.
Amin has told his story of his involvement in the political movement, especially of his time in MK.
What happened to them and to the others in that chaotic and confused time is both sad and tragic. But his honestly told story is an essential one for us to gain a fuller picture of our history, if only to ensure, perhaps, that future generations will learn from our mistakes.
Paul Joseph
Preface
Over the years, and especially since the 1980s, many friends have wanted me to relate my experiences in the movement (the ANC) and to put something on record. They kept telling me it was important. But I thought: ‘Important for whom? I am not going to publish it, and what has happened has happened.’
About five years ago Terry Bell threatened that one day he would come to my home and stay for as long as it might take to record my story. He argued that stories of the past were essential to help understand the present and plan for the future. I was not convinced.
Shortly after this conversation, my granddaughter, Zaqiya, aged eight, was asked at school to write a brief note to say who inspired her and she wrote: ‘My Grandad. He met Nelson Mandela and he bombed some pylons in South Africa.’ Only some of that was, of course, true.
Then my grandson, Yahya, aged six and on our visit in 2012 to the Olympic Village in London, asked his mum why there was so much security. She explained that it was to track down terrorists, and he loudly proclaimed: ‘My granddad was not a terrorist. He was a freedom fighter. He was fighting bad people.’ His mother quickly told him to shush.
Obviously, over the years, they had heard, in a household such as ours, conversations about aspects of the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa. Here was my audience, the people I wanted to speak to. So I decided to start writing down some of my memories. That was all I intended to do.
But Terry Bell turned up and, over the next two years, in person or by email, more and more recollections came to the surface.
So it was that I provided him with what he called a ‘verbal jigsaw’. I also traced documents that were written in 1968 and rediscovered a box of photographs of me and some of the other MK trainees in Czechoslovakia. We even tracked down some of the few survivors of my time as an MK soldier.
The result is this book. It is much longer and more detailed than when I first thought of it, but I still see it as a story for my grandchildren. In it, I have tried to be as honest as possible because that is what, I think, my grandchildren deserve.
Amin Cajee
London, 2016
chapter 1
Sentenced to death
The words echoed in my head: ‘You are guilty of high treason and the penalty is death.’ I froze. Terrified. It was September 1966; I was 24 years old. I was in Kongwa, an African National Congress (ANC) camp in Tanzania. And I was going to die.
The man who spoke those words was Joe Modise, a senior representative of the ANC, a movement that claimed to represent ‘the people of South Africa’ – a phrase we were to hear interminably in the years that followed – and which, we were often told, should be regarded as our mother and father. We were all South Africans a long way from home, away from families and friends, frustrated fighters stranded in a foreign country and totally reliant on the ANC. The movement had control over every aspect of our lives.
I had no idea what would happen when my name was called out in the camp and I was escorted into a room to stand before a tribunal. I, and others in the camp, knew that a hearing was about to take place. We thought it was an inquiry into what had happened a week earlier when one group of comrades had launched an attack on others. But it very quickly became clear that this was not the case. As I stood to attention before the tribunal, Joe Modise revealed that they were not interested in the clashes that had taken place, in which I was among the injured.
Looking severe, Joe informed me that I was being charged with high treason. With the help of a foreign power, I and others had plotted to overthrow the leadership of the ANC. The other accused were friends of mine – ‘Pat’ * (Patrick Molaoa), who had been an accused in South Africa’s notorious Treason Trial; 1 ‘Mntungwa’ (Vincent Khumalo); ‘Ali’ (Hussain Jacobs); and ‘Mogorosi’ (Michael Thomolang). They were to be tried separately and the penalty we all faced was death.
I remained mute, staring blankly ahead, my mind racing and unable to make any sense of the charge. The other four panel members – ‘Paul Peterson’ (Basil February), Boycie Bodibe, Chris Hani and Jack Gatiep – looked on impassively as Joe informed me that there were witnesses to a meeting at which this plot had been hatched. They had given evidence that we, the accused, had all been in touch with the Chinese embassy in the Tanzanian capital, Dar es Salaam (Dar). It was the Chinese who were to supply the necessary means to achieve our treasonous objective.
This was insane. I blurted out: ‘You are not serious, are you?’ But they were. They were charging us with having established links with the Chinese embassy, 240km (150 miles) away to the south-east, in Dar, when we were restricted to the immediate area of the camp and village, without postal, let alone radio, communications. And the Chinese government apparently wanted us to take over a South African liberation movement!
Before I could say anything else, Chris emphasised the seriousness of the charge, with Boycie following and threatening me with very serious consequences, among them execution in various brutal ways. I denied that I had been involved in anything treasonous and asked who the witnesses were and if I could question t